Don't Sell Your Heart
by Raptured Ignorance
Summary: AH/AU: It's not easy being a child of two celebrities, as one might think. The money's nice, the houses are amazing, and people love you. What can go wrong? Everyone finds out that your relationship is illegal, that's what.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Just so I don't have to do this for the rest of the series, since I tend to forget almost constantly:

**Twilight**_** belongs to Stephenie Meyer.**_

* * *

**Prologue**

I really didn't understand their fascination with me. I was the daughter of a film producer and an eccentric director, but what did I do? I was their child. That was my only job in life: To be Charlie and Renée's daughter, to smile for the cameras, and to simply answer questions.

I was a socialite. And there was nothing I could do about it.

My sisters enjoyed the given limelight, thrusting themselves further and further into the hell hole that was fame. I sat back behind them, keeping my three-thousand dollar sunglasses on, and trying to look good so I didn't disappoint my parents. Alice was a young, bouncy fashion designer, and Rosalie was strutting everything she had on the runway—and she had _everything_.

While I sat in the background, rarely getting on television or in magazines, Alice and Rose would be getting front-pages and interviews around the clock.

But the world still wanted to know about _me_, which I simply could not understand. They practically foamed at the mouth whenever something about Isabella Swan would hit the news. Some magazines had even shoved Rosalie's wedding pictures for a front cover of _me_ instead, declaring "Has Our Sweet Child Finally Found Her Beau?" Which I hadn't.

We'd gone out for lunch, sitting outside in the Los Angeles sun, while photographers snapped away at us. E! Network had twisted it into something nasty, and the poor boy—who was a completely normal teenager—couldn't handle the publicity and split so fast, I didn't have time to say goodbye.

I hadn't known why they liked to follow me just because I was the child of two incredibly wealthy, famous, and talented people. At least, I didn't until I met _him_.

I was on the set of one of my mother's movies when I saw him for the first time. I'd heard of him, seeing him occasionally on the television and on sidebars in magazines, but I'd never had the chance to meet him. He was an outstanding actor, portraying his background character so perfectly, it could easily be molded into a main character. Renée made that clear over lunch that day. She said she was going to talk to him and the writer to see if they could make a spinoff.

He was attractive beyond anything I had seen before. His features were angled, sharp, and when he smiled, the room followed suit. He had only spoken one sentence to me, but I had stayed awake all night for weeks, memorizing his voice. I tried to push him from my mind, but I found myself following my mom to the set like a puppy, just wanting to hear his voice, to catch a glimpse of him. Renée was too focused in her excited directing to notice my attraction to this man. To that, I was thankful.

I shouldn't be attracted to him at all. It was wrong. If something went too far, he'd be in serious trouble. And I would be the person to blame, though he would get the punishment.

It didn't stop him from contacting me. Perhaps he didn't know, didn't realize why we couldn't be _together_. Or perhaps he just didn't care at all—about him, his career as an amazing actor, about anything—because I soon found myself cradled against him in his bed on nights where I would sneak out of my two-story bedroom, landing into the rose bushes below and tearing up my arms and legs.

No one found out. And no one _could _find out. I didn't want the publicity. He didn't need the punishment.

Because he was twenty-two, and I had just turned seventeen.

This was never going to work.

* * *

**A/N:** So this is the start of my new story. I hope you enjoyed! I'm going to finish this, I promise! PLEASE REVIEW! Because then I shall squee all over you. :)

~R.I.


	2. Rules Were Made to be Broken

**Chapter One: Rules Were Made to be Broken, Isn't That Right?**

It was the day after Renée's birthday when the first bouquet of flowers came. My mother had picked them from the front step, gushing over how beautiful the pink lilies were. Until she saw who it was for, of course.

My mother and I had always had a close relationship. While Alice and Rose kept themselves busy with friends and parties or their own way to make it to the top, I stayed and bonded with Renée. My father stayed in LA, throwing movies either in the trash or along the conveyor belt to production. Renée was a traveler with her many directing positions, so I clung to her as a child. We'd gone to Rome, Paris, and even made it by the Ganges River when I was twelve. Mom was the perfect person for directing: In the middle of a take, she'd stop everything and completely change the script because it sounded or looked better if it was done _this_ way. It was fascinating to watch, because her movies had been nominated five times for Academy Awards, one actually winning Best Picture.

"Bella, who's C.E.?" She asked, handing the glass vase over to me. I could feel my face blanch and was thankful for the lilies for the cover.

Edward Cullen. That's who C.E. was. We had decided that if we ever needed to contact each other—by note, phone, or otherwise—that we would switch our initials around so it wouldn't be obvious. My mom _had_ worked with Edward before, after all.

"Um, a friend," Technically, not a lie. He was just a very, _very_ close friend. I quickly avoided any other conversation with my mother and lugged the lilies up to my room. It happened to be the size of a small apartment in New York City, but it definitely looked nothing like that of a "normal" celebrity child. My excuse was simple: Mom and Dad weren't A-List actors or musicians (though, Mom did try her hand at that, but we'll just say it didn't work out very well), they were A-List _Important People_. They were still invited to parties and events like any other rich, famous, beautiful person, but it wouldn't be a surprise if they didn't show. Because they had more important things to worry about.

Alice and Rosalie didn't buy into that excuse, reveling in the money that Mom and Dad raked in. _Their_ rooms were ones that you would see on MTV's Cribs. Mine was average, stuck somewhere between a little girl's room and a woman's room. I had family pictures in frames on the desk, where my laptop sat, still sleeping because I had lost my muse three days ago, and, of course, my Nikon sat on the top shelf of my bed's headboard, just in case I wanted to go to the park and take black and white photos of the kids or couples. Who could actually be out in the open together, because no one was looking for them at all hours of the day.

My room was messy, organized clutter as Charlie—my father—so rightfully put it. I would not allow the housekeeper in my room. Because it was _mine_ and if someone touched _my_ stuff, I could probably never be able to find it again.

I tucked the vase carefully on my hip, shoving crumpled papers of started-but-would-never-be-finished stories, empty plastic water and soda bottles, and God knows what else from my desk to make room for the lovely flowers. I stuck my nose in one of them, carefully avoiding the orange pollen buds inside the pink and white petals. It smelled sweet and dewy.

I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of the bouquet, sending it to _C.E._ on my contacts list. I tagged on a note:

_Thank you for the flowers. You can't keep doing this, though._

_I love you, and I only care. XOXO, S.B._

Closing my phone, I turned and fell onto my bed, landing face-first in the soft pillows. I sighed, lifting my head and looking at the flowers. My phone chimed.

_I know. But I haven't seen you in three days. I need to see you._

_And I don't care anymore. Why can't we be seen in public? C.E._

I groaned, rolling over and putting my phone on my chest. This had gone on long enough. Edward Cullen was smart enough to know that simple law. I wasn't legal yet. He was five years older than me. I briefly wondered if we were normal people, if we didn't get stalked by photographers and paparazzi, if this could work out. Charlie would have a fit, and Renée would swoon over my boyfriend.

I flipped open my phone. We could be seen in public, just not as a couple. I could keep my hands off of him for an hour or two, right? I'd just survived three days.

_Meet me at the pool at the park in twenty. Bring sunscreen._

_Love you, S.B._

* * *

It cost two-fifty to get into the public swimming pool at the park that stretched across four city blocks, directly across from the skate park. I had gotten their late and had to lay my towel on the hard ground, far enough away so I wouldn't be splashed by the playing children. The pool was more an area for parents to bring their kids so they could burn off some steam; two water slides extended twenty feet into the sky and twisted and turned down into a smaller, squared-off section of the pool, a jungle gym with too many pumps shooting water everywhere to count was in the shallow end, and then there was the five-foot area. Small children bobbed in the water, stayed afloat thanks to the bright yellow life vests, their little mouths wide with a grin. There was a line going up to the slides, and I reminded myself to try the yellow one—it looked less scary than the green one, which was a tube, not an open slide. Isabella Swan: Giant little kid.

I laid on my stomach, planning to soak up as much sun as I could before Edward showed up. Slipping my iPod earbuds in, I shuffled the music and put my head on my rolled-up tee shirt, sighing in content.

Fingertips trailed up my bare spine, cold and wet. I squeaked, scrambling to roll over. Edward stood over me, blocking the sun, a marvelous crooked smile on his lips. I tugged out my earbuds, scowling up at him. "Good afternoon," he chuckled before rolling out his towel next to mind and sitting down.

I tried my hardest not to look at his body, training my eyes elsewhere. But then I saw other women—and a few guys—staring at _my_ Edward. I wasn't sure if they knew who we were—or at least who _he_ was—but I wasn't about to let him just be ogled at. It was silly, really, because to everyone in the world, we were both single.

He smirked at me, drawing my eyes away from his body and to his face. I flushed pink, and tried to hide my skin behind a curtain of brown hair. "So . . . hi," I said, pursing my lips.

"Hi there," He replied, holding back laughter. I ran a hand through my hair, wishing I could be running my hands through _his_ perfect, auburn, messy hair, that no matter what he did to it, it simply fell back into place. It aggravated him at times, but I simply adored it.

Our heads turned at the same time behind us when we heard the familiar sound of a camera taking a picture. A pap stood there, snapping three more pictures as we stared at him. Great. We were going to be on TV tomorrow.

I rolled my eyes, sighing. They couldn't even leave us alone for a few minutes out of our house.

"So," Edward started after there was a long silence between us (and a lot of squinting due to the harsh sun). "You wanted to see me?"

God, I loved his voice. The way his perfect lips moved around his words. It made it sound velvety, yet rough and completely masculine.

"Bella?" He said, a beautiful smirk on said perfect lips. He touched my arm, pulling me from my revere.

I blinked, stunned. "Uh—what?"

He let out a little laugh, his bright green eyes dancing. I loved his eyes too. They pulled me in, probably when he didn't even mean to, and got me lost in their depths. It was most likely why people wanted him to act in their movies so much: He simple compelled you to watch him.

"Bella!" He shook my shoulder harder this time, a concerned look in those green eyes. "Are you okay?"

I rubbed my forehead, looking away from all of him. "Yeah, uh, sorry,"

Okay, that was ridiculous. But I couldn't help it: I simply loved every inch of this man. "Anyway," he said, urging me to explain my sudden meeting.

"I wanted to see you," I replied instantly, without having to think. He stared at me for a moment, and when I didn't speak again, he waved his hand, asking me to elaborate. "That's all," I sheepishly admitted, tucking my face into my shoulder.

He leaned forward and inch, something that would be insignificant to the photographers who were still outside of the bars of the pool, but was not lost on me. A smile spread over Edward's face, making my breathing hitch. "Good," he paused, "because I was about to break all of our rules,"

My eyes widened. We didn't have many rules, but what we did have _had_ to be followed, or everything would be over. He and I both didn't want to lose each other, but I was pretty sure Edward would jump out on a limb, even if it meant destroying his career. I didn't want to ruin anything he had worked so hard for. He didn't take his parents' fame for granted, like my sisters sometimes did.

Esme, his mother, had been an interior designer in Chicago when she met Edward's father, Carlisle, a "concierge doctor" who made house calls to celebrities when needed. But since he was such an amazing doctor and wrote three books on his profession, he'd made it slowly up the ladder until both he and his wife had become A-Listers. And then Edward was born, the "cutest child" of his generation, and they backed out of the spotlight to focus on family.

Edward had explained that he went into acting because he enjoyed seeing himself on screen when he was younger, but, like any little boy, he'd had his childhood dream career. "I wanted to be a doctor like my father," he had said, "but then I realized that I was shy when speaking to actual people. And the camera became my best friend from there,"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair again. The situation we had put each other in was horrible, because someone, at any moment could get hurt. Edward had told his mother about us being together. I had never met Esme, but Edward said she was elated that they were together. She loved my photography, even if it was only one picture in an underground zine that absolutely no one knew about. Except for Esme, obviously.

"Actually," Edward continued, making me look up at him, "I did break our rules," He touched my shoe before jumping up and throwing himself into the five-foot end of the pool. The lifeguard yelled at him for running and practically diving in.

I laughed, reaching for me shoe. He'd left a note that had an address written on it in his elegant hand, with a key taped to it. I bit my lip, wishing I was disappointed with him breaking the rules. We had to plan everything we did. This was definitely not planned. Despite that, my stomach twisted with the thought of being _alone_ in a place that was _ours_.

I tucked the key back into my shoe and scurried after him. This was going to be _so much fun_.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh yes it is. I know, I rambled _a lot_ in this chapter. And I think I'm going to change the rating. You'll see why very soon. I can break my own rules, too, huh?

I'm going to try and upload a chapter of this every Saturday, but I will make no promises on updating. I'll try my hardest to get these up in a timely manner. I love this story so much, I can't see it to go unfinished.

Is it pathetic for me to grovel for reviews? Well, yeah, it is. But I'm doing it anyway. PLEASE REVIEW! :)

-R.I.


	3. Breaking the Girl

**A/N: **I'm so sorry this is a day late! But I've had a lot of things going on this past week. Finals are this week coming up, so the next chapter might be a little late, too. Plus, my former English teacher went to the hospital on Friday, and I'm worried about her. Anyway, enjoy!

**Playlist:** "Belong"—R.E.M., "Breaking the Girl"—Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Head over Heels"—Atlantis Morissette, "Trouble"—Coldplay.

**Chapter Two: Breaking the Girl**

I dropped my bag just inside the apartment Edward had gotten for us. The complex was finished, the walls completed with working pluming, but it was not something a normal person would want to live in during this stage of development. Edward knew me, though. I wasn't like any normal person.

Spinning around, I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him quickly. I felt his lips twist up in a smile as he returned my kiss. Then I pulled away and tugged him into the unfinished and partly-unfurnished apartment. There was an old television on a table in the living room with an expensive-looking stereo system under it. There were no chairs in the tiny place, but somehow he'd managed to get three plants and a lamp. A blow-up bed was in the only bedroom, and two toothbrushes in the connected bathroom.

"It's not much, but it's the best I could do in three days," He explained, leading me to the kitchen that was almost non-existent. "But we can stay as long as you want. I made sure we have everything we need, so, if you want, we don't have to leave for a while."

"That sounds just too good," I sighed, leaning back into him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his lips to the juncture between my neck and shoulder. I lifted my hand to his tousled hair, running my fingers through it.

Edward made himself busy in the tiny kitchen, scrambling eggs and frying bacon while I searched for something mildly interesting on the television. I hadn't told Edward that my family and friends had no idea where I was. I didn't even leave a note, simply walking out the door with an overnight bag, thankful that both of my parents were busy and out of the house. They didn't need to know where I was anyway—they rarely knew where Alice was, and they didn't have to worry about Rose because she was married and living on her own.

I stopped when I reached the celebrity gossip channels, knowing I really shouldn't be watching the shows. It was funny to see what they were saying about your best friends and family sometimes, though.

Edward turned around the corner out of the tiny kitchen, two plates of delicious food in either of his hands. He plopped himself down next to me, pulling up a large cardboard box to use as a table. He glanced at the TV once, then doing a double-take when he noticed what I was watching.

Sighing, he reached for the remote from my hands. I curled it into me, scrunching my nose playfully. He chuckled, crawling over and pushing me down on my back and laying over me. I giggled as he started peppering my face with kisses, leaving wet marks all over my cheeks and chin. His lips made sucking noises as he continued to kiss me. My hold on the remote was beginning to loosen when his mouth started to move slower, moving to my jaw and neck.

I whimpered, wishing to simply ravish this lovely man on top of me, but something stopped my advances. Turning my head toward the television—Edward biting at the first button on my shirt—I saw an image of the two of us on screen at the pool, four days ago.

I took Edward's face between my palms and made him look at the screen. Then host was talking about us: "An eyewitness reported that 'They looked extremely friendly, laughing, playing, and acting like children. It was amazingly funny.' The paparazzi wouldn't leave them alone, of course." A picture of us with me on Edward's shoulders in the middle of the pool flashed up. "'Bella almost looked like she was flirting with him,' says the same eyewitness,"

Edward sighed, resting his chin on my chest. "We look good together,"

I stared down at him, in the plain apartment, and just wanted for him to be _mine_. We both had already committed ourselves of each other. But the idea of _everyone_ knowing he was _only_ mine sent thrills up my spine. It was possessive, true, but I was sure he felt the same way.

"Alright," I said as the channel went into commercials. "We're going to tell everyone,"

He jumped back as if I had shocked him, but then an elated smile graced his features. "Really?" I felt his hand slip behind my back, lifting me so I was pressed closer to him. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and bit my lip. He leaned down, kissing my lips gently. The remote fell from my fingers as I braided them in his messy hair, pulling him even closer.

All too soon, I had to pull away to breathe, but his hot mouth didn't leave my skin, just moved further down, kissing a trail from my jaw to my cleavage. I mewled as his teeth pulled the first button out. He brushed the tip of his nose along the top of my left breast, causing my toes to curl. I let out a heavy breath, Edward continuing his devilish acts on my poor shirt.

Once he had unbuttoned the entire piece of white fabric, he brushed it aside, leaving it still on my shoulders so I didn't have to move, but started torturing me yet again. His thumbs made small circles above the low waist line of my skinny jeans, his tongue darting over my heated skin, my breaths coming few and far between.

I pulled his lips back to mine, lifting myself up and pushing him up against the bare wall, straddling his waist. Ever impatient, I tugged his cotton shirt over his head and ran my hands up his formed stomach and chest. His hands cupped my cheeks, resting my forehead against his. I kissed him slowly, savoring each second that our lips stayed connected.

He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of my jeans, a crooked smile on his face. I smirked down at him, sliding my shirt from my shoulders in one swift movement. I went to kiss him again, but he stopped me with a turn of his face.

"Wait," he breathed against my cheek. My breathing hitched, my body freezing over his. Slowly, he ran the palms of his hands up my sides, causing me to whimper and shiver at the same time. He kissed the hollow beneath my ear, "Would you like to go swimming?" He asked quietly.

The dirty images that flowed through my mind at his words were extremely wrong, even for me in this situation. "No," I whined, lolling my head until it was pressed against his shoulder. "I want you," I moaned into his ear, nipping at the rim. I felt him shudder beneath me, and knew quickly that swimming was out of the question.

|==:==|

I traced random patterns across Edward's bare chest, smiling as he snored quietly. Making love on a hard floor without any pillows to brace any sudden movements hadn't been the most _comfortable_ experience ever. _But_, I mused silently to myself, _we've done worse_. This was completely true. We were practically teenagers injected with some concoction that made us want to go at it like rabbits.

Or Edward was simply and just insanely attractive.

We didn't even have a blanket to cover ourselves up after we were spent, both of us far too lazy and enthralled in each other to bother looking around the empty apartment for one. I guess we could have lasted until we'd made it to the blow-up mattress in the bedroom, but I was content right where I was: In Edward's arms, with our legs completely tangled together. Even if my butt was cold.

"Mmm, hello," Edward muttered, stretching his arms over his head as his eyelids fluttered open. He peered down at my nude state, "Why, this is a lovely way to wake up,"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sleepy Head," I snorted, ruffling his unruly locks, "I must have taken a lot out of you, huh?"

He blinked, a pucker appearing between his eyebrows. I reached up to smooth it out with my thumb. "What time is it?"

"I have no clue," I said, keeping my voice down. It seemed like if I talked too loud, I would ruin everything. "But since the whole left side of my body is numb and my butt is _freezing_, I'd say you have been asleep for a while," I laughed as he kissed my forehead.

"Should we warm you up, then?" He muttered into the flesh of my throat, pulling me carefully on top of him and fitting me between his legs.

I sighed, relaxing into his arms. "That sounds amazing," I let out breathily, but my stomach had other ideas. It growled loudly, interrupting Edward's advances suddenly. "_No_." I cried, drawing out the word as he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.

"I'm going to make you dinner, and then we're going to go swimming," He told me with a sense of finality to his voice. I pursed my lips, pouting. He chuckled, kissing the pucker away. "We can get back to this as soon as you want."

"_Now_," I said, locking my fingers behind his neck and drawing his lips to mine in a fiery kiss.

"No," he said, scolding sarcastically, "_Later_, after you eat and swim,"

"Why are you so intent on me swimming? And why am I the one crawling all over you? You're a guy! Start being horny like they are in the books," I huffed as he disentangled our legs and stood from the floor. He chuckled, slipping his boxers back on. He picked up my bra, looking sideways at me before slinging it on his shoulder and walking off.

"I like you better without this,"

I shrieked, jumping up at running after him. "Edward!" I laughed, reaching for my bra playfully. "Give it back, it's my only one with me," He pulled it from his shoulder and pretended to hand it back to me before flicking it at me, the metal clasp slapping against my bare thigh. "Oh, you're _so_ in for it now," I growled, snatching my underwear and clothes from the floor and stalking off with what dignity I had left.

Edward cooked up something from a bag, but it tasted like I had just finished a meal from a high-end Italian restaurant. We were about to leave the apartment down to the complex pool when my cell phone started to ring.

I paused just inside the door, split on whether I should answer it or let it ring. I made up my mind, turning back and walking outside.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Edward asked, not locking up yet. I shook my head. "Why?"

I hesitated, not sure if I should tell Edward how my family didn't know where I was or not. I sighed. "Because my family doesn't know,"

"You didn't tell them?" He asked, bewildered. "Bella, I thought we were going to be alright with our relationship now,"

"That was after we left for the apartment," I argued, knowing I was fighting a lost battle. Edward would make me tell my parents.

He saw nothing wrong with our relationship. He knew the laws, of course, he just chose to overlook them, I guess.

"You will tell them," he said, kissing my forehead. "But let's have some fun, shall we?" I bit my lip, nodding. He chuckled, pecking me quickly before wrapping an arm around my waist and towing me down the stairs and down the street to the pool.

I was pretty sure the few people down at the pool knew who we were, but thankfully, they didn't make a scene. I sat on one of the chairs and watched as Edward swam back and forth across the long, awkwardly-shaped pool. I tried to keep my breathing normal as he gracefully pulled himself from the water, shaking the water out of his hair with his hand. He sat down next to me, taking a pull from a water bottle.

"Are you even going to get in the pool?" He asked with a crooked smile on his sparkling face. A beach ball rolled towards us, stopping next to Edward's feet. He tossed it back to the group of the kids waving their arms in the deep end.

I smiled, touching his cheek. "It's fun to watch you," I admitted.

He sighed, taking my hand in his. "Well," he said slowly, looking at the ground, "what's the fun without getting wet?"

I closed my eyes, turning my face away to keep from laughing. "Okay, that sounded wrong,"

He laughed; I could hear a smile on his face. "You're right," And then the chair disappeared from beneath me, and Edward was speed walking—he didn't want to run and set a bad example for the kids, of course—towards the edge of the pool. I squealed as he jumped in with me in my arms.

I opened my eyes underwater, and Edward's perfect, shimmering green eyes were staring right back at me. We surfaced while lip-locked, and as all the kids around started screaming "_eww_," I laughed, blinking the stinging water away.

We stayed at the apartment for four nights, finally deciding that we had to get back to our families and lives. My cell phone battery had died on the second day, which meant that I had at least two-hundred-something messages in my inbox from frantic parents and friends. To make telling everyone just that much easier, Edward had an interview later that afternoon with _GQ_ Magazine.

I chickened out in telling my parents. Alice shook me until my teeth rattled, asking if I was insane for leaving to Rome without her—my excuse for being gone, and I had "forgotten" my phone charger. She wanted to go shopping in Rome like no other person I knew, and quickly set up a flight in a month, telling me I had to show her the places I went.

Alice just happened to pick up Edward's magazine three weeks later when it hit the shelf. I tried to act nonchalant as she flipped though, sipping an orange soda out of a straw. I was filing my nails on the couch across from her. We had just finished a Bella-Barbie spa session, and my toes were painted all different colors. I'd drawn the line when she wanted to do the same to my fingernails.

"This can't be right," she muttered, squinting at the page she was reading. I hummed, trying my hardest to not sound scared. "It says Edward's dating . . . you," She peered up at me. I refused to meet her gaze, my cuticle suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

"Oh, um," I said, swallowing, "yeah, that's true."

"What?" She tossed the magazine to the side, not caring where it went. "When were you going to tell me that you were dating _Edward Cullen_?"

I shrugged, lifting my head finally. The little pixie stared at me with her eyebrows in her hairline, her lips forming an 'o' shape. "You realize Dad's gonna kill him, right?"

"Which is exactly why I didn't want anyone to know." I retorted, pressing my lips together. "He's five years older than me, what does expect everyone to think?"

"Well," she said, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips, "I'll give you something—he's _adorable_," I cracked a smile.

"I won't tell Jasper you said that," She stuck her tongue out at me.

"So, when do you think it's going to break on TV?" She asked, biting her small lip. Alice was tiny all over, peaking at exactly four-foot-one, but reaching four-foot-seven when she strapped her stilettos on her tiny feet. Her hair was naturally inky and black, but she kept it cropped short and spiky. She was three years older than me, and I remember the day when she was seven and found the scissors and chopped her long hair off right in front of me. She asked me if I wanted to match, but I ran away crying to Mom, scared I would be in trouble.

I sighed, reaching for the remote and flipping to the nearest celebrity gossip channel. "Well, there you go," I muttered. Edward's quote from the magazine was on the screen, with another man reading it.

"—the interviewer asked Edward was dating anyone, he replied with 'Yes, I am, actually. Bella Swan,'"

I held my face in my hands as they continued, calling Edward the "next cradle-robber in Hollywood," "a pedophile," "a statutory rapist." How the hell would they even know if we'd have sex!? Did he tell them about our sex life? Well, if he did, I might as well just tell them about the elevator incident at the Roosevelt Hotel so they could sanitize it.

"You had sex with him?" Alice gasped. I grunted in reply. "Oh my god." I winced, waiting for the attack of words, calling me stupid for putting him in jeopardy like this. What I got was not what I expected.

"My sister bagged _Edward Cullen_!" She squealed.

"Shut _up_, Alice," I growled, picking myself off the couch and heading towards the stairs so I could retreat to my room.

She appeared in front of me, practically vibrating from excitement. "No way! You're telling me to calm down when you had sex with one of the hottest guys in Hollywood."

"Again," I snapped, "I won't tell Jasper you said that. And _again_, shut the fuck up before I punch your pixie ass out."

She flinched, not used to my pissy attitude. She let me pass her. I fell into my pillows, screaming into them. I didn't want this to happen. My phone vibrated on the shelf over my head. I groaned, reaching for it.

"Hello?" I answered, irritated.

"You _will_ break up with him," My father said on the other end of the line, his voice final. I let out a breath.

"Dad, really, it's no big deal,"

"Yes it is, Isabella," he said, "If this isn't cleared up after I get home, I'll do it for you,"

"Dad—" but the line was already dead.

I pressed the pillow to my face, screaming until my throat was raw, and then I bit my lip until the point of blood. It felt like I'd just been punched in the chest and someone was twisting a knife in my stomach. I hiccupped, sitting up in my bed. Alice was peeking through my door. "Go away!" I yelled, my voice hoarse, and threw a book at her.

I made up my mind quickly, knowing that whatever I was about to do would be ten times better than what Charlie could and would do to Edward. I remember when Rosalie first started dating Emmett McCarthy that Charlie pulled him into the kitchen. They didn't know I was curled up behind the counter because Alice had convinced me that Emmett was a Cyclopes. I could only see his giant legs at the time, and I believed her like the ten-year-old that I was.

"Remember," Charlie said, "Whatever you do to my little girl, I do to you,"

Which went for all of his kids' boyfriends, and all of them got the point. I grabbed my keys from the table downstairs and brushed my way past the questioning Alice, ignoring her spastic attempts to tell me to calm down. I threw my rustic truck—another thing that separated me from the rest of the celebrity spawn—into reverse and drove the familiar way to Edward's loft.

He opened the door before I was done knocking, as if he knew I was coming over. I took a deep breath, the knife digging deeper into my abdomen.

"This can't work," I said.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading, my friends! Please review! And tell your friends about this story; I'd love to meet some new people. *hint hint*

Please review! Tell me what you think, loves.

-R.I.


	4. Something in the Way

**A/N:** You guys are so cute. Someone asked if I'm going to change PoV's, and yes, I am. In this chapter, actually. And don't get mad at me, please. Everything in this chapter had to be done.

Since I finished the chapter early, I decided to post it just because I can't wait for you guys to read it. Love me, my friends!

**Playlist: **"Under the Bridge"—Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Something in the Way"—Nirvana, "The World I Know"—Collective Soul, "Wake Up"—Alanis Morissette

**Chapter Three: Something in the Way**

I twisted the rose between my fingers. My cheeks were stained with dry tears. There was just one thorn on the stem of the vibrant red rose, and with a morbid thought, I pushed my thumb on top of it until it pierced my skin. The color of my blood matched that of the rose's petals. Before I could be affected by the sight or smell of my own blood, I stuck it in my mouth.

Edward had been silent for the last twenty minutes, staring out at the open water of the Pacific Ocean that his loft overlooked. The quiet room was only interrupted by the ticking of the silver clock on the wall by the hallway towards his bedroom. I kept my eyes on the rose he had given me before I had lied and broke his heart.

This would be easier, though. A lie was better than the truth in this situation. I had decided I didn't want a public relationship with him. Lie. I wanted him like I needed air to breathe. Truth. My father was going to end this whether we liked it or not. Truth. We couldn't make this work. I wasn't sure on that one yet. Perhaps we could. Just not now.

I stood, breaking the tension in the room, and picked up my keys. I headed for the door, stopping only to see if he would turn to look back at me. I slipped the key to his loft off the ring and dropped it to the floor with the tainted rose and my heart.

I had to get away. I turned my music up as loud as it would go in my truck, so loud it almost covered the roar of the engine. At a red light, I tugged my cell out of my pocket and called Charlie. I was sobbing by the time he picked up.

"Are you happy?" I yelled at him, hoping he could understand me.

"Bella? Bella, what's wrong?"

"Do you have to ask? It's over. I hope you're happy." I paused, taking a shaky breath and wiping my nose on the back of my hand. "I'm leaving. I'll see you when I decide to come home." I flipped my phone shut and spun my truck around, heading towards LAX.

Paparazzi met me there, blinding me with flashes. I knew I looked like shit, but for once I couldn't really care. I had no bags with me, but I kept my passport in the glove box of my truck.

"One, one-way ticket to . . ." I scanned the board for the next out-of-country flight, "Paris," I paid with Charlie's credit card—I had memorized the numbers in case of emergencies—and dashed through security, running to the gate, and getting on in time before they shut the doors.

The flight was not full, so I was able to get a window seat. I took a deep breath, pressing my forehead to the cold pane, and watched as the city disappeared beneath us. I slid the cover down and wrapped my arms around my chest in an attempt to keep myself together.

I had nothing. Edward was gone, I'd shoved him away. I had what cash I had left in my wallet—which wasn't much. I wasn't about to risk getting found with using Charlie's credit card anymore. I was alone, and I almost liked it. If only Edward could be _here_ alone with me.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do once I landed in Paris. I would probably wander around until I had to find a place to stay. Luckily, I had picked on so many different foreign languages when I was traveling with Mom, French being one of them. I'd dye my hair, too. I would start completely over and hope Edward forgave me when I came back. If I did at all.

_**Edward Cullen**_

I heard the key and rose drop to the hardwood floor with a hollow sound. The door shut behind her. I was scared to turn around, hope still flickering deep in my chest that she would be standing there. It only hurt more to see the crushed petals on the floor, with the key that I had given her when we first started dating. How many times had she snuck in at night to curl up next to me? How many times had she fumbled with the lock from laughing too hard? How many times had she told me she dropped it in the rose bushes beneath her window at home and spent thirty minutes clawing around in the dark to try and find it?

I wasn't sure I what could do. I felt lost. What did most people do after a breakup? In movies girls got together and ate chocolate ice cream until their hearts were mended. What did the guy do? Go to a bar and drink until they were sweating alcohol?

I didn't want to pick up the discarded items at my door, for fear they would crumble under my fingers. My cell phone sat on the kitchen counter. I picked it up, my fingers dialing her familiar number of their own accord. I wasn't sure why I had her home phone number.

"Hello?" her sister answered on the third ring. I opened my mouth. Should I be calling her home? I was only going to ask if she was okay. I closed my mouth, deliberating. "Hello?" Alice's voice sounded more skeptical, frightened even.

I hung up, throwing my phone at the couch and pinching the bridge of my nose. My heart was beating erratic inside my ribs, as if it was trying to run away with Bella. It made sense, though, for it to want to follow the one who would always hold it. I wanted to follow her where ever she went.

Because I knew there was no way what she had told me was true. She had always been a horrible liar, but at the same time, I could see her up on the silver screen, portraying some tortured soul who found love.

I called my mother, and she urged me to practically stalk the poor girl, but I shot her down every time, though every fiber in my body wanted me to agree. "Then, come home. Angela misses you as much as I do,"

I smiled sadly. Esme and Carlisle lived in Seattle, Washington. Angela was my younger sister by two years who had married Ben Cheney when she was eighteen. They'd been tutored together since they were five, and somehow everyone knew they were going to end up married. Esme was overjoyed to say the least when, last year Angela had said that she was pregnant. And so now I had a nephew that I loved to death, and I hadn't even seen him since he was two months old.

"I'm booking a flight," I said. I quickly told Mom that I loved her and that I would be up to Seattle as soon as possible, meaning tonight, hopefully.

There were photographers everywhere, shouting questions at me as I tried to shield my face from the flashes. They asked if they knew why Bella had purchased a flight to Paris. No comment. They asked if I was following her, but when I paid for a ticket to Seattle, they stopped asking those questions. I sat between one of my biggest fans, and one of my biggest haters. The girl on my left was at least fourteen years old with natural maroon hair with a nose that wouldn't have worked on anyone's face but hers.

She smiled up at me, her small lips glossy from lip gloss. I could smell her cinnamon gum that she quietly chewed. Thankfully, she wasn't annoying like I was expecting her to be. She stayed quiet through the flight, hiding her adorable laughter in a book while she listened to the man in the window seat complain about something he was reading in a magazine. I didn't think it was a coincidence that he was reading my issue of _GQ_.

"Um, excuse me?" The girl next to me asked, touching my arm to get my attention. I smiled kindly down at her. Her eyes widened and she swallowed. That was one of the many things I loved about fame: The star struck look people got in their eyes when you smiled at them. "I read that issue . . ." she said, composing herself, "Is it true that you're dating Bella Swan?"

I sighed, rubbing my palm over my face. "I was," I admitted. "but she didn't want to continue when they started talking about me,"

"People are jackasses," she spat, turning back to her book and brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. My mouth popped open at her language, and a quick survey of the plane made me think that she was alone.

She shook her head, looking back up at me. "I'm rude, sorry," her mouth turned up in the left corner, creating a cheeky half-smile. "I'm Dalia,"

"It's nice to meet you, Dalia," I smiled.

"You know," she started slowly, slipping a receipt into the book where she was and closing the cover, "People say I'm a good listener," Dalia hinted.

"Really?" I played along. She nodded, her navy eyes big, doe-like, and completely naïve. I swallowed, suddenly nervous for this girl. Who was she with? "How about I ask you where you're parents are right now, if you don't mind?"

She looked down at her lap suddenly. "I'm an orphan," she admitted.

"Oh, I'm . . . I'm sor—"

"No, no," she shook her head, smiling again as she turned back to me, "I'm not an orphan anymore, I guess. I was adopted yesterday,"

She was extremely lucky, then. Rarely were older children adopted. "Well, congratulations," I said, unsure.

"Thank you," she laughed, sensing my nervousness. "If I were you, I'd call her,"

"What?"

"Bella. Call her." She played with the hem of her shirt. "If I know anything about wanting something, but having to give it up, I'd want that something to follow after me. So, call her."

"You're getting dangerously close to being smarter than me, Dalia," I teased, chuckling.

We talked about trivial things for a while, she explaining what kind of family had adopted her. Her new mother had been unable to conceive, and they'd even gotten her a fish named Ted as a welcoming present. I watched as her new family greeted her at the gate, her running into her new mom's arms.

I saluted her with two fingers as I walked by, and she waved shyly.

|==:==|

"Esme," I coughed as my mom wrapped her arms around my neck in an unbreakable hold. "Can't breathe!" I gasped.

She pulled away, only to leave lipstick marks all over my cheeks and forehead. Carlisle came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her off of me. "Let me hold my son," she complained, pouting. Carlisle chuckled, kissing her temple before coming over and hugging me.

"It's good to see you, Edward,"

"You too, Dad," I pursed my lips, hoping I wasn't about to sound rude. "Alright, I can't help it. Where's my nephew,"

"Sleeping," Angela said, carrying the child in her arms. His left arm was hanging over her arm, his eyelids twitching with his dreams. "Hold him, but be careful, he's a little heavier than when you saw him last."

Angela had caramel hair like my mother and I, taking Mom's dark eyes as well. I'd always been insanely protective of her, and with her decision to stay out of the spotlight, it just made my job that much easier. I didn't have to worry about stalkers and insane fans. Ben was her perfect match in everything. His hair was darker, his eyes a striking blue behind his thin glasses. He was the son of two English models, but when he was thirteen, his father ran off with a male French model named Jak, leaving his mom to take care of a pubescent teenage boy.

Luckily, Angela had kept him in line.

I dropped my carry-on, not caring if I had anything breakable at that moment, and carefully took my nephew into my arms. His tiny fist rose to his eye and he let out a little grunt before falling fast asleep again. I loved this kid like he was my own.

"Hey there, Jayden," I cooed, tucking him closer to me. Esme almost fell over as she swooned over the sight. She wanted nothing more than for me to have my own children one day. There was only one chance of that ever happening: If Bella was the mother. That option wasn't looking to up right now. She was all the way across the world, probably eating croissants and sitting on a prince's lap.

_No_, I told myself sternly, _Bella isn't like that_. Knowing the _real_ Bella, she was probably tripping over the sidewalk as she tried to find a place to stay.

How I wished that place was next to me, where she belonged.

_**Isabella Swan**_

I put my face in my hands. It was almost midnight, and I still hadn't found a place to sleep. In all honesty, I didn't want to find a place to sleep. Sleeping would mean being alone. If I had to sit on this wooden bench all night so I wasn't alone, I'd do it.

France was extremely beautiful, even with frigid weather. It was the middle of October, but I refused to buy a jacket, for fear I would need the money for more important things. Like food or a plane ticket home. When the sun was setting, I had seen a boy sit by his window, staring out towards the Eiffel Tower, some red flower lining his windowsill. He'd caught me staring at me and smiled politely before turning his gaze back towards the iconic building, its top touching the clouds.

His eyes had been sad, as if he was longing for so much more than a view from his window. I had had a similar feeling when I was around his age—I was guessing he was thirteen. I wasn't sure what the hell was going on in my life. I could have anything I could ever want, but I wasn't happy then. I wanted a relationship so bad it hurt . . . and then I met Edward two and a half years later, and the rest is history.

Quite literally.

But now I was alone in the most romantic city in the world, in the middle of October without a jacket. My life was fucking great.

There was suddenly a mug in front of me, steam rising from the liquid inside. I followed the arm up to the person who was providing it to me. The street lights provided little light, but I could clearly see that he had dark, russet skin, long, pitch black hair, and a smile that was utterly contagious, even in my state of mind. "You looked cold," he explained, urging me to take the steaming cup.

I gave him a half smile, cradling the mug in my hands, the extremities screaming with delight at the warmth. Before he sat down next to me, he tugged a thick wool blanket that he had over his arm and wrapped it securely around me.

"Thanks," I shuddered.

He grunted in response as he sat down next me, taking a sip of his own mug. "I'm Jacob," he introduced, smiling as he looked at me.

"I'm B-Bella," I returned his smile, shivering.

"Yeah, I know," he said, causing me to shake my head. Everyone knew who I was. "No, what I mean is, I _really_ know you. Don't you remember me?"

I looked back at him, hoping some feature in his face would jog my memory so I didn't sound rude. "Where you in . . . that one movie? Clone or something?"

He laughed, a light, delightful sound. "Sure," he bargained, "But your mom directed it, that's for sure. You were on set, and I asked you to act a scene out with me—"

"—and it just happened to be the kissing scene," I finished for him, finally remembering. "You're _that_ Jacob."

"The one and only Jacob Black, at your service," He teased, grinning from ear to ear. Jacob looked down the dark street, picking at the lip of his mug. "So, why are you in France?" he asked.

After I decided that he probably hadn't spiked the drink he gave me, I took a sip, pondering what I should tell him. The silence between us was not uncomfortable. "I . . . decided to get away," I sighed finally. He looked at me with a questioning glance. I grimaced, but explained myself. "I broke up with my boyfriend because my dad told me to,"

"Ah, Edward Cullen," Jacob said, looking away with a scowl on his features.

"Do you have something against him?"

Jacob turned back to me and shrugged. "I've never liked his movies . . . I've never met him, but he just annoys me." I crack my head back and laugh because his accusations are ridiculous.

"But maybe I'm biased," I bargain, taking another sip of my drink.

He shows that smile that I'm beginning to grow fond of. "Maybe just a little,"

|==:==|

A purple butterfly landed on the sunflower in front of me. How a sunflower could grow in the middle of winter was a mystery to me. I stood atop Jacob's family apartment—at least until he was finished filming his lasted movie—in France, watching as the sun clambered out of its bed, bathing my face in valuable Vitamin D.

My phone rang yet again, sitting on the edge of the brick wall. I sighed, picking it up, already knowing who it was. I felt bad as I ignored Mom yet again, but I was slightly less sad than I had been yesterday, and I didn't want to ruin my mood. France made me happy.

I didn't hear Jacob join me on the roof. He brushed aside my hair from my neck, slipping the thick blanket slightly lower on my shoulder. And then he kissed my bare skin.

I did not stop him.

* * *

**A/N:** Since I love my Jacob, I decided to let him have some fun with broken-hearted Bella. Aren't I horrible? I know. :)

Please review! I'm so happy you guys like this story and I want to keep it going. Your reviews and comments keep me going.

-R.I.


	5. Imma Be

**A/N:** I need to apologize for not getting this chapter up in time. I'm in Houston, Texas until Tuesday, and I've been here since Thursday, hanging with family that I haven't seen in three years and such. You guys understand. :)

The playlist for this chapter doesn't really match what happens, but it's just what I mainly listened to while writing. I don't really think it fits. XD

**Playlist:** "Simple"—Collective Soul, "Lithium"—Nirvana, "Imma Be"—Black Eyed Peas, "Troublemaker"—Weezer

**Chapter Four: Imma Be**

_**Edward Cullen**_

Two tiny, grubby hands covered in cranberry jam reached up towards me, and despite the fact that I was about to be smeared with the stuff, I picked up my nephew and kissed his palms. He gave me a loud laugh that almost sounded forced, but his face was bright.

Esme walked passed, smiling. "Edward," she started, touching her chin, "You got a little something . . . on your face,"

I smirked. "Alright, well, let's go get cleaned up, huh, Jayden?" He cooed in response as I set him carefully on the kitchen counter, a safe distance away from the edge. I checked the water before he leaned over and put his small hands under the faucet. I pulled a paper towel off the roll and washed off my face.

"Eddie," Jayden tried saying, cupping some water in his hands.

I widened my eyes, leaning out the doorway to look at Angela and Ben. "I see he's learned his Ds?" I teased. When I had called my sister occasionally, Jayden always ended up on the phone, calling me Ellie. Which, in turn, caused some hysterical photos and letters addressed to "Ellie" over the holidays.

Water squirted on my face as I turned back to my nephew. "Oh, you wanna play that game, don't you?" I challenged playfully. Jayden splashed more water at me, and I feigned pain. "Oh, no!" I moaned, clutching my chest. "I'm _melting_!"

"Oh, stop it," Esme said, swatting me with the dish towel. "You're going to give the poor kid a heart attack,"

"What?" I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. "He started it," Jayden looked up at his grandmother innocently, gnawing on the handle of a wooden spoon he'd found.

_**Isabella Swan**_

"Jacob, no," I said, planting my feet on the floor as he pulled me towards his director. "No, Jacob," I felt like I was chastising a dog, though I doubt anyone would name their dog Jacob.

"Just trust me, Bella," he pleaded, coming to my side and draping a log of an arm over my shoulders. "It's a small part, and you're perfect for it."

"Still doesn't change the fact that I _don't want to do it_." I snapped back, trying to twist out of his arm. But it was too late.

"Jacob," the man said, smiling as he tossed a thick script into the hands of someone passing by. "Correct that, please!" he called as they walked away. "What can I do for you?"

"Sam, this is Bella Swan," Jacob said, nudging me forward slightly. "And I think she'd be perfect for that part that we haven't filled yet,"

Sam stuck his hand out between him and I, and I shook it politely. "Such a pretty girl," he said, and I blushed, looking down to my feet, "Get her in makeup."

My head snapped up. "W-What?" I'd got it? He hadn't even seen my horrible acting skills.

"Jacob's right, Bella, you're perfect." Sam said. He paused, eyeing Jacob. "Don't you have to get in wardrobe?"

"Oh! Right. Bye, Bells!" Jacob scurried off behind one of the many curtains.

"It's just a small part, dear, don't be so worried," Sam explained, showing me to the makeup tent. "Ladies, we've found Tiffany's best friend!" he announced to the three, small, blonde women. Their faces lit up and they squealed, one coming over and ushering me to a chair. "You'll do great, just relax," Sam comforted before exiting the tent. I could hear him shouting orders before the set went quiet and he called "Action!"

After they pulled the knots from my hair, wiped my face clean with an alcohol-drenched cotton ball, plucked at my eyebrows, things started to get enjoyable. Their hands were suddenly careful with their work, twisting my hair into two French braids on top of my head (but then they drowned it in hairspray and I knew I'd have to take three showers just to get it untangled), dusting powder foundation on my face, edging my eyes with brown eyeliner, and coating my lips with clear lip gloss that smelled like vanilla.

"Der we go," One said in a thick accent that I didn't know of, and clapped her hands. I blinked at myself in the mirror. My skin looked airbrushed. My eyes looked shinier somehow. My lips looked full and inviting.

I looked beautiful.

"Wardrobe!" A person sang behind me, pulling me along to the next tent. They strapped me into a sky blue button-up shirt and black skinny jeans. It looked like something I would really wear.

"Here's the script, you have a while until they shoot the scene, so, try and memorize it. It depends on how many takes this will have," A man said, laughing as he passed a crisp, new script my way.

I weighed it in my hands, running my fingertips over the title. _Witness_. Flipping through the pages, I got the gist of what the film was about. A girl—Tiffany—saw her boyfriend's murder and the murderer (who just _happened_ to be the new girl and lived right across the street from her) started to frame Tiffany for the murder.

"Does it look like it'll win me an Oscar?"

I squeaked, spinning around at the sound of Jacob's voice behind me. "Oh my, God," I said, my eyes widening. "They cut your hair!"

He grimaced, running his hand through the short locks. "Yeah. I know." He sighed, "It's my first day on set, and my character has short hair. I didn't want to wear a wig, so I have to lop it off,"

"Who are you playing?"

"David," He smirked smugly. I peered down at the script. "Oh, I'm the dead boyfriend."

I tipped my head back and laugh. "Well, don't play up the screaming too much, Jake," I said, "Don't make this movie B-Rated."

He said a quick goodbye, then, running off to do a scene. I read the lines over and over again, noticing that it wasn't a "little part." I was practically a star in this movie, in almost every scene. My name was Jennifer, I had twin siblings, Lily and Liam, who were in kindergarten. I saw the actors for them scamper by, and I knew they must have been real-life twins. I wanted to cuddle with them they were so adorable.

I found Sam in between takes and tapped him on the shoulder. "Um, I think there's a mistake." I said.

"What do you mean?"

"It says I'm in practically every scene. I'm pretty sure you meant to put me in as a cameo?"

He chuckled kindly, patting my shoulder. "No, Bella, believe me. I know talent when I see it."

I wanted to put up a fight, but I realized I was up.

"Good luck, Bella," Jacob said, giving me two thumbs-up as I stumbled my way towards the set (which was the front of the kindergarten school. The cowboy boots they had shoved my feet into were perfectly toasty in the chilly breeze that drifted by. The setting was supposed to be in a small town called Lovelock, Nevada. Why the hell were they in France in November?

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. The two girls playing Tiffany and Harley (the to-be killer) smiled politely at me, one winking encouragingly. "Action!" Sam yelled, and I heard the bell of the school chime. Butterflies tried to suffocate me as I knew the cameras were recording. I looked at the marks on the ground, blue being my color. I knew when to walk, when to stop, when to talk. I just had to make it real.

I could do this. I think.

"I told you you'd do great!"

I rolled my eyes, raising my hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. You did." I paused, looking up at Jacob. "Thank you. I enjoyed it."

He cracked a toothy smile. "Bella Swan: Actress. It has a nice ring to it."

"It does," I smiled to myself, giddy. I'd done great, at least for a person who had never been in front of a professional camera before. I was incredibly proud of myself. Sam had officially added my name to the list of actors, relaying the message to the poster photographer. My plate was no full with photo shoots, makeup, wardrobe, different, intense scenes, and craft-service.

And I couldn't love it any more than I already did. I owed this revelation to Jacob Black, who forced me onto the set of a movie that wasn't going to happen unless they had a person to play Jennifer (I'd heard that both the director and the head of casting were extremely picky with their actors).

Two weeks spun out in front of me in France, I became even more comfortable in front of the many cameras. The others actors and actresses were extremely kind and caring. I felt welcome, like I had finally found my place. We had gone to three photo shoots for the movie posters, the first shipment of them going out three days ago. My name was written across the top along with everyone else's: "Staring Jessica Stanley, Lauren Mallory, Jacob Black, and Isabella Swan."

I'd found my hook. All this time I thought that I would forever be known as Renée and Charles Swan's youngest, but now I could see myself becoming my own person. I would have my own life. I'd be known as Isabella Swan.

I was making something of myself.

_**Edward Cullen**_

I couldn't believe it.

Bella was in a movie.

And not just _any_ movie. She was in a movie directed by _Samuel Uley_, one of my favorite directors of all time. I hadn't even had the chance of being in the same room with the man, and Bella was a star in one of his movies. There was no way I was seeing this right.

But, right in front of me was the poster for _Witness_, with Bella next to Jacob Black, Jessica Stanley, and Lauren Mallory. She was an actress. Bella, someone who blushed if I complemented her attire, was in a _movie_.

I just couldn't believe it.

A flash blinded me for a moment, and I flipped up the collar of my coat, knowing the feeding frenzy was about to begin. Someone had spotted me staring at Bella's photo.

It had been pretty clear in the tabloids that Bella and I had cut it off, especially when we were spotted at LAX buying plane tickets to two different parts of the world, with Bella in tears.

The only difference between this whole thing was that _I_ had come home. Bella had remained in France, but she still wouldn't get out of my head. Everything I saw reminded me of her. When I saw the poster, I had come to the conclusion that I would never be able to get away from her. She would always be there.

I would never be able to move on.

I knew I had to. Bella had obviously done so. Why couldn't I?

The weeks passed before my eyes like pictures, small things sticking out more than others. I would lie in bed at night, missing her warmth on the other side of the bed. Nothing felt right without her, her voice, her laugh, her touch.

Her lie had been evident in her voice as she told me she didn't want a relationship anymore. She had always been a horrible liar. But I let her go, never calling her out on it. There was a reason she left me, and I _had_ to let her go.

The invitation arrived in the mail two weeks before the premier for _Witness _on February twenty-seventh_,_ and I knew I couldn't go. The premier meant Bella would be there, in that small little theater, and before, probably only feet away from me on the red carpet.

I found myself stressing over it and not knowing why. If I wasn't going to go, why should I care? Was it because I knew she would be on someone else's arm throughout the night? Or maybe it was because that person would never be good enough for her. _I _would never be enough for her. No one would.

Before I understood what I was doing, I had myself dressed in business casual and sliding my keys into my pocket on the twenty-seventh of February. I should have a driver for an event like this, but I had been unprepared up until now. I would find a place to park. I had to see her.

_**Isabella Swan**_

"Damn it all, Alice," I groaned.

She laughed behind me, sticking another pin into my hair. "Relax, Bella. You're wearing one of my new designs, and I'm doing your hair and makeup. Plus, this is your first premier. You want to look good," she paused, "Don't you?"

I stared at her in the mirror for a moment before sighing. "Yes," I grumbled like a child. She smiled, picking up her ministrations.

"And who's your date?" she asked.

I coughed, placing a hand on my chest. "W-What?"

"A date." She removed her hands from my hair, placing them on her skinny hips. "Bella, you're on the red carpet. You need a date,"

"No I don't," I tried to argue, already knowing the battle was lost. She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at me.

"_Bella_," She said when I didn't continue.

"Fine! I need a date, but I don't have one, alright?" I crossed my hands over my chest which felt like it was about to fall out of the tiny piece of fabric Alice had called a dress.

She tapped her finger against her bottom lip, looking up to her right as she thought. "I know!" she announced, perking up. Worry raced through my veins. What could she have thought up now? "_I_ can be your date!"

I sighed in relief, glad she wasn't going to hook me up with one of her male models or something. "That sounds great," I said, "We have to go in thirty, though. Will you have enough time?" I looked up at the clock.

"Bella," Alice said in a tone that said something was obvious.

"Oh, right." I laughed, "You're Alice."

|==:==|

Thirty minutes and a drive later, Alice and I were being helped out of the sleek black car by a kind man with white silk gloves on. My feet seemed glued to the ground where I stood as Alice laced her arm with mine, trying to pull me along.

This wasn't me. I didn't want the people looking at me. That was the whole point of getting to France. What the hell had I done?

"Bella, come on," Alice said as quiet as she could over the noise of everyone around her. "It's alright, I'm right here, Bells," she kissed my cheek and ushered me forward until my heeled shoes hit the edge of the scarlet carpet.

I swallowed as the flashes blinded me and I forced my eyes open against the glaring lights. The posters of the movie were behind me, reminding me why I was here.

I was an actress.

I was important.

I wasn't just Bella Swan anymore.

I was _The Actress_ Isabella Marie Swan. Want an autograph?

Alice pulled me forward to a camera with E!'s logo stamped on the side with an interviewer I had never seen before standing next to it.

"And here's Isabella Swan, a newcomer!" she announced, smiling at me with too-white teeth. "How are you dear? And Alice, it's lovely to see you again."

"Always a pleasure, Lizbeth," Alice said, leaning forward and kissing the woman on both cheeks. "But tonight's my little sister's night," She nudged me forward and my cheeks flushed.

"Of course! Isabella, how do you feel you did in your first film?"

The following two hours progressed rather the same and I quickly relaxed under the bright lights and shouting photographers with Alice by my side, constantly comforting me. The questions were practically identical for each interviewer.

"Who are you wearing?"

"Do you have any more movies coming up soon?"

"There's a rumor that you'll be in one of your mother's films, is that true?"

I answered them like I was expected to, quick, short, politely, with a smile on my face. It was easier than I had expected.

Alice and I stopped in front of the last interviewer before we were supposed to be taken into the theater to watch the movie. Alice had told me that we could leave before if I wanted, but I said I wanted to watch it. I had liked the plot.

"Miss Swan!" the man said, waving us over. Alice and I laughed as we both asked him how he was. "Isabella, correct?" I nodded. "I saw Edward Cullen come by a few minutes ago. Did you decide to go to France after you broke his heart?"

The world froze around me, my smile falling quickly. I had been able to avoid thinking about Edward with how busy I had been. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice's face scrunch up in anger.

Edward was here? How hadn't I seen him yet? Had he seen me? Where was he?

Why was I so worried? I had shattered any hope of him ever being with me, anyway. This was a big movie premier with big stars and an even bigger director. Why was I so surprised that Edward was here?

It wasn't the best thing to do, but I grabbed Alice's arm and turned heel, heading straight into the doors of the theater.

"Do you want me to go punch that guy? 'Cause I will, you know that." Alice threatened, half of her body turned to exit the door again.

I wrapped my arms around her neck, burying my face in her shoulder. She reached up and held me until I stopped crying. "Bella, shh, it's alright," she murmured into my hair.

I pulled away, holding up my chin. "I shouldn't be crying." I said, hoping my voice didn't shake. "It's my night, right?"

"That's right, dammit!" Alice said, stomping her foot. She clapped me over the shoulder, threading her arm around my waist. I kissed her spiky hair as she pulled me through the next doors and to our seats.

"Thank you, Ali," I said as we sat down.

"Bella!" Jacob threw his arm over my shoulders and kissed my cheek. I blushed, playfully pushing him away. "Hey, how have you been?"

"Shh!" Alice scolded, hushing him as the lights dimmed.

I giggled and crossed my legs, straightening my dress. Sam came out on stage and the cast and I applauded him for being a great director before he announced the movie and it started playing.

It wasn't even five minutes into the film that I felt his eyes on me. I shifted in my seat, scratching the burning spot on the back of my head where I knew his eyes were trained. Blushing, I sank down in my seat as I realized he would be seeing my acting. He'd be judging me through this entire film.

The climax was more gruesome than I remembered, Jessica Stanley who played Tiffany, looked as if she had just gotten hit by car on screen, and Lauren Mallory who played Harley, ended up getting bludgeoned to death.

The crowd, despite the strange and gory climax, clapped and cheered during the credits. I sat frozen in my seat, my eyes following the names as mine scrolled up the screen.

Holy crap.

_I was in a movie_.

"Uh, Bella," Alice said beside me, shaking my arm gently. I shook my head, coming out from my mind.

"Hmm?"

"First, the movie was freaking amazing. You did great." She paused, looking over her shoulder. "And two, Edward Cullen is staring at you."

* * *

**A/N:** Hope you liked.

I'm sad. Only two reviews for the last chapter? D: When I'm sad, it gets angst-y, and I don't like angst. If you don't want Edward to die, review! D: I'm serious.

Please review! Thank you!

-R.I.


	6. Missing You

**A/N:** We're skipping a lot of time, just because I need to keep the story moving. Sorry for it taking so long. D;

_**Warning!:**__ Before continuing, please know—two horny people ahead. There may be secks—yes, secks._

**Playlist: **"Boom Boom Pow"—Black Eyed Peas, "Comin' Back"—Verbatym (Go look them up on MySpace, lieknao!), "Emergency"—Paramore, "Missing You"—Black Eyed Peas

**Chapter Five: **Missing You

_**Seven Months Later—September**_

Since my debut in _Witness_, I had been in multiple movies throughout the year, keeping myself busy over the summer. And despite everything buzzing by me in fast forward, I found time to think about him. I would stay up late into the night, memorizing lines, and then I would fall back on my bed and simply think about him while staring up at my ceiling.

There was no way I was getting away from him. Because I was in love with him.

So when Alice vibrated up to me, her energy palpable, and announced that her boyfriend Jasper Hale had made her his fiancé, it wasn't a surprise when I had to force my excitement for her. I was happy for her, of course. But it still hurt.

I wasn't really sure how I ended up at her bachelorette party at a club or a bar or whatever it was, when I was clearly underage. But I was pretty sure it was a gay bar. Which, I thought, defeated the whole point of a bachelorette party.

By midnight, Rosalie had converted at least three men back to at least bi-sexual without even doing much more than a dance and Alice was quickly convincing me that she would be better with the girl that was hanging on her small shoulders, trying to steal kisses.

I had done neither throughout the night. I made friends with the bartender that had blue hair and blonde roots, and it was only one when I had hit the bottom of the tequila bottle. "So is that natural?" I asked, holding the glass bottle by the neck.

"Alright, you're cut off," he chuckled, plucking the bottle from my swollen fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not gay," I accused.

"Sure I am,"

I shook my head. "No, you're not."

"And how would you know?" He crossed his arms over his chest, the rag still hanging from his left hand.

I ticked them off on my fingers. "One, if you were gay, I'd most likely be attracted to you. Two, you cringe when a man gives you a wink. Three . . . I don't know a gay guy who would let their roots show."

He cracked a smile that was glaringly similar to the one that Edward gave me. I rested my cheek on the cool wood, and started to cry.

"None of that here," he scolded, and another shot was set in front of me. I lifted it up and slid it down, the burn not even bothering me anymore. "Now, who was he?"

"How are you so sure it wasn't a she?"

"Alright, fine. Tell me about them,"

I sighed, tipping over the shot glass so it rolled into his waiting hand on the other side of the bar. "Well, we met on the set of one of my mom's films like, I don't know how long ago. And he—"

"I knew it," he teased.

I rested my forehead in my hand, smiling up at him. "Fine, you caught me. . . ?"

"Todd,"

"You caught me, Todd." I paused, eying an over-sized bottle of alcohol behind him. He sighed, turning around and snatching the wrong one from the shelf and mixing me a martini. I sipped it, remembering why I loved them on days like this. They were pure alcohol. "Edward Cullen."

He whistled, wiping up a spill I hadn't known I had made. "Hot one," A nod.

"Maybe you are gay," I muttered, sticking my finger into the liquid and pulling out one of the two green olives staring at me with a red pupil. I chewed, not tasting until I noticed Todd biting the inside of his cheek. I lapped at the alcohol on my thumb, my eyebrows screwing together. "Maybe not,"

There was a time when I was four that Renee used to take me to the park to feed the ducks. I had tossed a piece of bread towards a flock of geese and they started chasing me. If you've never been chased by geese, don't try it. It's fucking scary. I ran away, right into the smelly lake.

I crawled my away out, looking like a soaked cat, and they started chasing me again.

I smelled bad, and was now afraid of geese. But I would still rather be them.

They mate for life.

Alice slung her arm over my shoulders then, a droning laugh on her lips. "_Bella_," she whined, resting her head against my temple, "will you dance with me?"

I shook my head, my elbow missing the edge of the bar as I tried to lean against it. "You know how I dance, Alice. And this isn't going to help me." I gulped down the rest of my martini, letting Todd whisk is away before going down the bar to a very busy female couple.

"Please? It's my bachelorette party and Rosy poofed." She splayed out her fingers in front of her face. "_Come on, please_?"

I huffed, running a hand through my hair. And then I tried to stand, using the bar to hold my weight. "There is no way I'm dancing with you." I muttered, but I realized that Alice had been distracted by yet another woman.

Snatching my purse from the bar, I stumbled around my barstool before Todd caught me. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

I shook my head. "My sisters will take me home. I just need to get some air." I slurred, and he reluctantly released me and I made my way to the door of the bar.

Outside, the alcohol swirled around in my head, causing me to spin for a moment. I spotted a bench to the right and plopped down in it, resting my head in my hand. I felt horrible—waterlogged and queasy. I was pretty sure I was about to puke. My ankles hurt from the goddamn shoes Alice had strapped on my feet. I struggled with the clasp, almost falling off the bench four times before I could finally get both of them off and onto the seat next to me.

And then I was crying again, because I was so alone. Alice was getting married, Rosalie was married, and I wasn't even getting hit on in a fucking gay bar. The next thing I knew, I was heaving over the armrest into a pot of poor flowers.

And someone was holding my hair. Tears fell from my eyes as I threw up everything I had ingested in the last month. I thought it was never going to end. I felt bad for whoever was taking care of me. With my luck, it was a paparazzo and he was also snapping pictures.

When it did finally end, I sat back on the bench and apologized, trying to hide my face. The person seemed to wave it off though I didn't look at them, and offered me a bottle of water to rinse my mouth out with.

Definitely not a paparazzo.

I looked up, and started crying again.

It was Edward.

He sat down next to me and pulled my head into his chest, kissing my hair. I clutched at his shirt, begging he wouldn't leave. "I'm so sorry," I blubbered over and over again.

"I'll take you home," he told me, wrapping his arm around my waist so his hand was just at my ribcage. I let him lead me just down the dark street to where his silver Volvo was waiting. He helped me in, taking my shoes from me and shut my door.

I felt bold when I was drunk. It was something Alice and Rosalie found out when I was twelve. Charlie had forgotten to lock the alcohol cabinet and our parents had gone out for the night. They didn't let me have much, but it was enough to make me jump from the roof of our home into the swimming pool. They told me I was two inches away from clipping my head on the edge.

Tonight was no different.

Edward went to start the Volvo, and I pulled on his arm. He turned to me, and the action sent a wave of his glorious aroma towards me. He was closer than I thought, and I threaded my fingers in his auburn hair, locking my lips with his. I gasped as he responded, holding my neck so I couldn't move away.

My heavy limbs tried to find their way to get me into the backseat, and Edward had to help me. Our lips were apart for one quick second as I landed in the back, and I quickly tugged him forward, and he found his way under me. He cradled me against his chest, his mouth attacking my neck and shoulders. The shirt I had worn was loose and slipped from my shoulders to my waist.

Sitting up, his tongue made a hot trail from the valley between my breasts to the hollow beneath my ear. His hands were everywhere—sliding up my sides and supporting my back, playing with the straps of my bra and teasing the button of my jeans. I was on fire, and he was one fire, and I was about to fall apart at the seams if he didn't do anything about it.

I tore at the collar of his shirt, the first button popping off and hitting me square in the chest. I leaned too far forward and had to catch myself on the foggy window. He chose that moment to release my from my bra, and it caused me to collapse over him, our bare chests pressed together and his hot breath fanning over my neck.

My hands traveled between us to the button of his jeans. I bit my lip. It was still daring, I realized, and my hand slipped under the fabric to his boxers underneath. He hissed in my ear, kissing the overheated skin there. A spasm flew down my spine, materializing in my lower stomach.

I took a breath, lifting my head so my lips were pressing against the corner of his jaw. "Take me, Edward," I whispered.

He groaned, his head lolling back, and I sucked on his skin, making him mine. I rocked back on him, my core rubbing against his hard through our jeans. The sound that came from his chest thrilled and scared me. I had never heard that from him in all the times we had been together. It was feral and possessive. His hands fell to my hips and I helped him rid me of my jeans, leaving me in only my black bikini underwear.

His eyes were dark and that sound came again, through his clenched teeth. I pulled him free of his own pants. I was waiting for him to roll us over, but he never did. Instead, he fisted his left hand in my hair, pushing my throat to his lips, while I kissed his wrist. His other hand kept me over his clothed manhood, teasing me. I whimpered, the coil in my stomach becoming painful.

"Please," I cried, reaching down and pulling down on his boxers. He nibbled on my earlobe.

"What, Isabella?"

My nails dug into his side as he used my full name, and he froze for a moment before a shudder ran through his skin.

"Take me, Edward. Take me."

We were completely bare before I thought possible, and I held onto his shoulders, his hands guiding my hips over him. I looked up at him for the first time tonight, and was about to say it. We had never said those damn three words, and they were on the tip of my tongue. But he started to slide me over him, and I groaned until he flipped me completely, my back arched away from him, my lips hovering over his.

His eyes had rolled away, so I closed mine and let him lead my body over him, the feeling unfamiliar and mind blowing. I kissed him, our skin moving together like it had what seemed like so long ago. He sped my tempo, and I straightened up to get a different angle. My toes curled beneath me, and Edward increased the rhythm even more. I moved my hands from his shoulders to his neck and pulled him up so our chests met again.

He held himself up with one hand while still supporting me and took over the movements. I forced my hips harder against him, desperate for even more friction. His mouth found my collarbone, and marked me like I had done to him.

The feeling sent me over the edge, my walls tightening over him. He trembled under me, pushing towards his end. I bit into his neck, and he growled in my ear, filling me completely before spilling within me.

The arm that had been supporting him shook before he fell back onto the seat, his breathing more ragged than mine. Still intimately connected, I let myself to lay over him, my lips never leaving his throat.

I could hear his heart speed beneath my chest, and I felt complete for the first time in a year.

* * *

**A/N:** _This_ is the reason I changed the rating. I was very scared about writing this. You have no idea. I'm so scared to write lemons and other sexual stuff that I usually just fade-to-black it. But I do want to eventually be comfortable writing it. So, might as well, right?

Was it good? I've only written four before, and they all sucked. Let me know, please?

So, you should review. Because I think this is completely hot—at least, by my writing standards—and your pretty fucking lucky I even wrote it. Be happy.

Tell me: What do you think the morning after will be like?

-R.I.


	7. Your Bruise

**A/N: **Shout out to twifanatic1. She's the first to make me laugh with her review.

Took forever to get some inspiration for this chapter. _Thank you Death Cab for Cutie!_

And yeah, it should have been awkward the morning after, but do you really think Edward would do that to Bella?

**Playlist: **"Sleep Spent" - Death Cab for Cutie, "Bend to Square" - Death Cab for Cutie, "Line of Best Fit" - Death Cab for Cutie, "Your Bruise" - Death Cab for Cutie.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Your Bruise**

I was wedged between the back of the seat and Edward, my cheek pressed against his chest so I could feel his heartbeat. And all I could think about was that the windows weren't fogged anymore, and we were both naked in the back of his car. Sure, the glass was tinted to almost illegal standards, but I could just imagine the paparazzi walking down the street and spotting us like this.

After all, Edward and I had broken up about a year ago.

Biting my lip, I pealed myself away from the seat carefully, hoping not to wake Edward at the same time. I needed to at least find something to cover us. But then he was moved, his arm falling over my hips and pulling me even closer to him.

He sighed, his face nuzzling my neck as he woke. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered against my skin. A slow, amazing shiver moved up and down my spine at the name he called me. I didn't want to leave his arms - anything but leave his arms.

"We have to go," I muttered quietly. He sighed under me, shaking his head. "Edward, we have to,"

"Come back with me,"

I swallowed, relaxing my muscles so my cheek was pressed against his. My heart pounded against my chest, as if to knock some sense into me. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to run off with Edward like we used to, to disappear for days at a time and have no one know about it.

"I can't," I choked, running my hand up the hard planes of his abdomen and chest. I massaged my fingers over the stiff muscle connecting his neck and shoulder, feeling as it slowly loosened under my touch. I bit my lip, thankful that he couldn't see me.

"Why?"

Sucking in a breath of his musky scent, I pressed on his shoulder so he pulled away and looked at me. I wasn't sure if last night should have happened, if _we_ should have happened. If we should happen. I wanted him. His proximity, his flesh pressed to mine, was doing amazing things to my body, that even when we were together all those months ago I had never felt before. "We need to talk," I whispered, and he lifted a hand into my hair and ran his fingertips over my skin. The sensation that tickled my nerves made me close my eyes and sigh.

"_Come back with me_," he said urgently again, "Please, Bella. Just come back to my apartment with me, we'll talk. We need to."

So he felt the same. Well, I guess that was a good thing.

Opening my eyes, I could feel my face set in a sad mask. Edward Cullen was holding me after a wonderful night, I shouldn't be sad. He leaned in and kissed my forehead, taking all of my hair and twisting it around his fingers. When he pulled back, his lips were tilted to the side in a disappointed manner.

"What?" I asked.

"It's shorter," he muttered through tight lips. I let out a small breath that I hadn't known I was holding. "And softer, and you have lowlights."

I pushed my bangs back from my face and found his hand with my fingers, still holding my hair. "Does it look bad?" I whispered.

He hesitated for a short moment, only to shake his head and run his fingers through my hair again. "It's just different."

"Things change in a year, Edward," He definitely had. He'd been working out, his arms bigger and his chest and abs more defined. Not like I was complaining.

He gave me a halfhearted smile. "Not everything," only his lips moved, and I wondered if I wasn't supposed to understand.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Edward shook his head, turning over and picking my jeans and bra and shirt off the car floor. He passed them to me as my cheeks lit up with flames. He noticed and cracked that crooked smile that did things to certain parts of me. He sat up and pulled on his boxers, his pants, and buttoned his shirt. I wondered how he still looked like he just walked off a photo shoot when we'd just had mindless sex in back of his car.

I stared at him for a moment, using my clothes to nonchalantly cover myself. When he stared back in a confused manor, I cocked my brow. "Where's my underwear, Edward?" I hadn't gone commando - which was pretty smart, considering we went to a gay bar last night - and I knew they couldn't have just _disappeared_.

Edward jumped slightly, leaning down and patting under the seats without much effort. He sat up again, shrugging. "I dunno."

Rolling my eyes, I sighed with a little laugh on my breath. "Just keep them, Edward," I dressed and we climbed into the front seats again. I opened the glove box while Edward started the car, the air conditioning kicking on immediately and wafting over my sticky skin.

I smiled and pulled the little bottle from the compartment, popping the cap off and spraying the floor and backseat. Edward started at me, his head tilted adorably while I did so. "It smells like sex in here," I said shortly.

Edward tipped his head back and laughed, pulling his Volvo out onto the street and wiping a U-turn on me. "Slow down, mad man." I growled, clicking my seatbelt in place. He chuckled, turning down the A/C.

"I thought you liked fast rides, Bella."

I gaped at him, open-mouthed for a moment. If last night hadn't been physical - no pun intended - proof of that, I didn't know what was. "Just drive," I muttered, crossing my arms below my chest like a five-year-old. He already had my underwear, what more did he need?

Edward's apartment was a wreck. Well, as much as _immaculate_ could looked _wrecked_. But it was just off. There were books stacked on the coffee table, a few open on the floor, instead of neatly tucked in the shelf like they used to be. There were more half-drank mugs of black coffee spread throughout the space than I dared count. Ink stains on the white pain, in the shape of his smeared fingertips. The grand piano in the corner was dusty and looked as if it hadn't been dusted in a while.

But it was still so much cleaner than anything I had ever walked into before, yet lived in and warm.

"Ah, sorry about the mess," he said, dumping three cups of black liquid into the sink.

I sniffed the air, my eyes wide. "Do I smell _smoke_?"

He ducked his head, sliding open a drawer next to the one I knew held the silverware. His hand dipped in and produced a pack of Camels which he tossed onto the counter with a heavy _thunk_.

"Things change in a year, Bella," he repeated my words from earlier and I touched my hair, suddenly self-conscious. I had told my stylist - yes, Bella Swan had a _stylist_ - that it was too much, too dark for my skin, but he didn't listen and did it anyway. "Your hair's fine," he said harshly, shutting off the water.

Edward brushed by me and disappeared down the hall and to his bedroom. Biting my lip, I followed tentatively, scared that I wasn't welcome.

But as I passed the piano again, on the keys was that damn rose I had dropped all those hundreds of days ago, shriveled and brown, the leaves a sickly and crackly green. I stopped short, wondering why he had kept it. Wouldn't it be a bad memory of me? Perhaps that's what he thought of me, though. _A bad memory_. Simply a red blip on the radar to avoid from then on.

Then why had he brought me back?

I jumped when I heard his voice from the start of the hallway. "So, you should start talking."

I tried to hide behind my hair, I fidgeted under his green gaze, I bit my lip, and finally looked up at him. He'd changed, now wearing a wife beater and black jeans that hung too low on his hips to be legal. His feet were bare.

"I'm not sure where to start--"

"How about a year ago, when you decided that you had to leave,"

I gulped, feeling a void of space form between us. "Well," I started, my voice breaking. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Charlie heard the news. He flipped out and told me I had to . . . Um, to ah, break up with you." I stared down at my feet, waiting for his reaction.

"No, seriously, Bella, why did you leave?" I peered up at him cautiously, his face sarcastic and disbelieving.

"That's . . . That's why," I said quietly, hoping he could hear, because I didn't want to repeat it.

There was a long, hollow silence in his apartment, and I feared that he had disappeared into thin air. When we had first started seeing each other, I had believed that if I didn't hold on tight enough, he would just float away, as if he had never existed. Ultimately, it came true, with my undoing. But my year had been far too busy for the feeling to actually set in that I was alone, that there was no Edward to run to when I just wanted to be held. Instead, I would be too tired to even make it to my pillow.

Edward's voice was so close - I hadn't heard him move - that I jumped three inches into the air, my eyes flashing around until they hit his form, only a few feet to my left now. "I don't believe you," he said fiercely, his green eye sparking, "because the Isabella Swan I know wouldn't care about what her parents said or what anyone else thought. The Isabella I know used to sneak out of her room, landing in those damn _rosebushes_, just to get over here. The Isabella I know would have run off with _me_ to France, and not _Jacob Black_." He sneered Jacob's name, as if it was poison to his tongue.

I stood there, speechless at his words, my mouth hanging open, my breath barely wheezing through my throat. I could barely form coherent thoughts let alone sentences. So I remained in my position, Edward just as frozen in front of me, and stared at him while he watched me. I _didn't_ care what everyone thought - that was the main reason I hadn't dove straight into Hollywood when I was young like my sisters. My parents were different, in a way. But I still cared what they said and how they saw things. But really, I could have dealt with reprimands from Charlie and disappointed looks from Renee if I could have stayed with Edward.

"I'm so sorry," I managed, my voice cracking, "but that's what happened. I didn't want to leave. God, that's the last thing I wanted to do, Edward. Charlie - he said that if _I_ didn't do anything about it, _he_ would, and you'd end up with two forks in your eyes from taking away his underage daughter."

"He said that?" Edward asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No," I sighed, "But Charlie would do something like that."

There was that quiet echo again, a ringing in my ears that was painful to a muscle in my chest. I wished he would just say something. Tell me to get the hell out, or tell me to stay, that he forgave me. Or maybe tell me to stay, but that he'd never forgive me. I wouldn't mind, I just wanted the answer.

"So you never thought the publicity was too much?" He asked quietly, looking down at my feet with unfocused eyes.

"No," If my sudden fame didn't prove that, I didn't know what did.

"You didn't mind that I was five years older than you?"

"Never,"

"You never minded having to lie to your family about where you went at night, or completely scarring your legs to come over here?"

"Of course not,"

"You never regretted one minute you spent with me?"

"No, never,"

"Then tell me, Bella," Edward turned his eyes up and looked at me through his lashes. My breath hitched in my throat. He watched my lips as I opened them to force air into my lungs. Then he stepped closer, so his lips were so close to my ear that I could feel his hot breath fan over my skin and make it tingle. "Why did you look like last night was a mistake when we woke?"

The oxygen rushed from my lungs in a breath I hadn't known I was holding. I could feel something zap between us in the small space that separated us. I hadn't known my feelings were etched so clearly on my face in the car. Well, there went my acting career.

"Was it a mistake, Bella?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper. I swallowed and found that I didn't even have to think about my answer.

"No,"

His lips were suddenly on mine, smooth and hot and amazing, and he pressed his body flush against mine. I gasped against his lips, letting his tongue slip into my mouth without hesitation. He pushed me back until I felt the side of the piano on the back of my thighs, and before I could react, his strong hands were lifting me up and setting me on top of the glossy black paint job.

Edward's urgency ebbed through my veins, melting my muscles and throwing all thoughts I once had completely out the window. It was just Edward and I. My fingers knotted into his messy hair, holding his head to mine. I moaned into his mouth, letting him stand between my knees and press his entire body to me. His hands were everywhere, sliding up my sides, pressing his palms into my hips and the length of my thighs. His mouth pressed open kisses alone my jaw, neck, and throat, leaving me gasping for breath above him.

I locked my ankles behind him, his clothed hard pressing into my core and sending my heart into a marathon. I arched my back into him, his lips returning to mine, and ground my hips into his, earning a strangled growl to rip through his chest.

I paused against his lips, pulling slowly away to look into his eyes. Shifting the atmosphere, I ran my hands up his chest, plucking the first button from it's hole, and then the second, slowly, never breaking our stare. My stomach was still in knots, but it could wait. I wasn't sure if I wanted this to happen. My body certainly did, but my heart and mind were having second thoughts.

_It wasn't a mistake!_ I screamed at myself, letting my eyes fall to his marble chest that I was gradually revealing from his shirt. Once I had got to the last button undone, I glanced up at him, and his eyes were dark and shimmering with an emotion I didn't know. I blinked and leaned forward, kissing the skin, just above his heart. Then I turned my head and listened to the beat under his flesh, even faster than mine. I closed my eyes and sat there, completely still, and let Edward wrap his arms around me and hold me close.

After a few minutes - or hours, I wouldn't know - I sighed and pulled away, letting my hands remain on his smooth chest. "We're not okay, are we?" I asked with sadness dripping from my voice. Somehow I just knew we had so much to work on, so much we needed to talk about, so much that needed to be worked out.

He let out a thin chuckle, brushing my hair away from my face and holding it behind my ears. "No," he shook his head, a sad little smirk on his lips. I closed my eyes to prevent for any tears to form - that he could see anyway - and turned my head down. This was the part where were we both go our separate ways for good. I would walk out that door and he would watch me leave.

"Hey," He slipped his hands to my jaw and lifted my face. I didn't want to open my eyes, but I did anyway. He spoke with a smile on his face, "We'll be alright, though. We're going to work everything out,"

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding and the man holding me kissed my nose. He kept his forehead on mine and I savored our loving contact. It was fierce or heated. This was just us.

And we were going to make it work.

Before we knew it, it was five o'clock in the afternoon, and when I checked my phone in my purse, there were fourteen voicemails, thirty-seven text messages, and twenty missed calls. I bit my lip as I checked the list of names. All but two voicemails were from Alice, the extra owned by my mother. The texts were a mix of my immediate family, and I rolled my eyes at Charlie's less-than-personal worry for me. Rose was just Rose, her texts only a few letters, mainly _Where are you?_ and _Should we call the cops?_

Like that would help if I was killed.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked as he came up to me from the kitchen, holding a mug of steaming tea. He passed it to me silently.

I sighed, setting my phone on the counter without replying. "Everyone's flipping out. I don't know what I should say to cover our asses." I smiled at him in thanks for the tea, bringing it to my lips and sipping. I hummed at the sweet taste. Edward knew me better than I knew myself. He'd even added the perfect amount of honey - something _I_ hadn't perfected yet.

"Should you go home?" I loved how he left it a question.

"I _should_," I muttered, looking into the mug cradled in my hands, "but I really don't want to,"

"You should at least call them, then," he kissed my forehead, handing my phone back to me. I took a deep breath and nodded. "Tell them . . . that you're fine, and you'll be home as soon as Edward Cullen lets you out of his home." He snickered in my ear at the blush that lit my cheeks, placing a kiss below my ear.

"Fine, I'll call them, but Alice will probably dig for details." And not out of worry, I knew that.

I dialed my pixie sister's number, praying that she wouldn't pick up. She did.

Before it finished the first ring.

"Bella! Where the hell have you been? I've been so worried about you - and don't get me started on Mom, she was about ready to call the cops. But seriously, you completely ditched us last night. That bartender dude said you went outside and didn't come back in. DO you know how scared I was? I mean, it was my bachelorette par - "

"Alice! Breathe,"

"Spill, Bella. What the fuck happened to you?"

"I ran into someone. I'm fine, and I'll be home when I want to. I'm fine, I promise. Call Renee, Charlie, and Rose and tell them that I'll be home soon, but not now, alright?"

There was a long pause, and just before that little gasp and squeal left Alice's lips, I knew I was caught. "Ohmygod, you ran into _Edward_, didn't you? Where did you go?"

"Alice, I'm hanging up and turning off my phone," I warned.

"Wait! No! You've got to tell me what happened!"

"Good_bye_, Alice. I love you, too." And I slapped my phone shut, resting my head on Edward's shoulder. Then I erupted in a fit of giggles. Edward, mirroring my laughter, leaned his head to see my face.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing," I sighed, brushing it off, "I'm just going to get attacked by a fairy and probably bitch slapped by a long, tan, and blonde model."

He laughed, tipping his head back. I turned in his arms so my body fit against his, and lifted my hands to his jaw, smiling up at him. Edward stared down at me with this light in his bright green eyes that made me love him even more. He kissed my lips chastely, his mouth turned up in a smile.

My stomach decided that it was the perfect time to make it known that I was completely famished and let out a growl that shook my frame. Edward laughed again, walking backwards to the kitchen with me still in his arms.

"Let's see what we have at The EC Lounge today," he teased, kissing my nose before letting me go to search through his cabinets. I laughed and perched myself on his counter and watched him move around his kitchen. He'd found clean clothes to dress into, a dusty green shirt and comfortable old jeans. The shirt was absolutely sinful on him, showing each muscle movement that he made.

I gulped audibly, clenching my fingers on the edge of the counter to keep myself from jumping on him and digging my nails into his back and licking his mouth.

"I haven't really been eating in much," he grumbled, standing back with both the freezer and fridge doors open. From what I could see, he had an empty Eggo Waffle box and a few Red Bull energy drinks. "But what I do have is noodles and some Prego,"

He turned his attention to the cabinet after closing first the fridge and then freezer. He'd checked the waffle box to see if it was really empty before putting it back on it's shelf and closing the door. I rolled my eyes, sliding off the counter to his side. "Anything I can help with?" _Other than completely tear your clothes off and ride you on this damn counter?_ I bit my lip, clenching the fist that was closest to his back to keep from slipping it up his shirt and running my fingernails along his skin.

"Basil," He pointed towards the giant bay window over the piano. On the sill was a tiny pot with a bright green sprout on it. I smirked at the fact that this was probably the only living thing in this house besides Edward. I plucked three leaves from the little plant and skittered back over to Edward, who had produced a box of spaghetti noodles that was half full and an unopened can of Prego, setting them on the counter. "God, I need to go shopping," he muttered, his hand on his chin while he inspected the three ingredients.

I pinched the leaves between my fingers, "Do we even need extra basil?" I asked, "I thought Prego had everything in it already,"

Edward stared down at me for a moment and then shrugged. "I've always been a basil person,"

"I thought you liked garlic,"

"That, too,"

I rolled my eyes, pulling out a napkin and setting the leaves on it. "Should I run to the store?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

There we were, Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan, standing in his kitchen, leaning slightly on each other, our arms crossed over our chests, wondering how the hell we were going to make a meal out of this. We probably looked like a scene from a romantic comedy.

"No, we'll be fine," Edward assured himself. "And remember what I said?" I looked up at him curiously. "You're not leaving until I _let_ you leave, Miss Swan," Then he winked at me, leaning down to kiss my cheek before going over to a cupboard and pulling down two pots with one hand.

_Oh, God, the way his muscles clenched._

I bit my lip, shifting my weight to my left foot. How come I had never felt like this around him before? That throbbing need surging throughout my body, telling me that _something_ had to happen, or I was sure to implode. Perhaps it was because I hadn't had any contact with him in a year. Maybe it was something about finally turning eighteen.

In ten minutes, Edward had managed to boil some water and add what little noodles he had left. He'd pinched apart the basil leaves and sprinkled them into the sauce. And I'd sat on the counter, salt shaker in one hand and pepper in the other - just two of the few things he had in his kitchen.

He lifted the wooden spoon to his lips while turning the burner for the noodles down. Tasting it, he nodded to me, "Pepper, I think," Before I could move to shake more into the sauce, he dipped the spoon back into the pot and then held it to my lips. "Taste,"

I obeyed, licking my lips as he pulled the spoon away. I smiled, leaning in and kissing him. "It tastes great, but I don't think you can take credit," I picked up the empty Prego jar and smirked, eyeing his lips again.

He chuckled deep in his chest, wrapping one around me and pulling me from the counter. Looking down into the pot of bubbling noodles, he sighed. "I really think there's only enough for one of us," I touched his sad face, rubbing my thumb across his light stubble.

"It's alright, Edward, believe me," I whispered, reaching up on my toes to kiss the corner of his jaw.

He sighed again, kissing my hair. He let go of my waist to retrieve only one plate from his cabinet and two forks. I smirked as he handed me the plate and strained the noodles. Edward smiled back, and my grin grew for no reason. Just because he was here, and I was here.

And maybe we weren't alright, but we would be. I hoped sooner rather than later.

We curled up on his couch in the dark, not needing any light as we guided the forks to each other's mouths, stealing kisses between bites. The pots and utensils were still dirty, some having made their way to the sink, some still scattered over the counter. I was pretty sure the Prego jar had never made it back to sitting upright on the counter, but I could clean my mess up later.

When the plate was clean of noodles, Edward swiped some of the red sauce and dabbed it on my nose before I could move. I couldn't even find it in myself to break the peaceful quiet in his house by laughing loudly, only letting a whisper of a chuckle leave my lips. Edward kissed the sauce away, anyway.

Somehow we ended up in his bed, on top of the covers, with our clothes still on - although he'd managed to push my shirt up to just under my breasts, his hands constantly exploring the bare flesh of my back and sides. The attention wasn't unwelcome.

We just watched each other, our noses barely touching, our knees wound together. To say I didn't want him sexually at that moment would be a lie. But it wasn't a need that could be set aside to just lay with him, breathing the same air as him, and robbing kisses when we could.

"Will you stay tonight?" He whispered, finally breaking our vow of silence. I rolled to check the clock, only to see it was after ten.

"I thought only you could let me leave," I replied with a smile on my voice.

He looked down, towards his hands, where his thumb was brushing against the side of my right breast. "You could have always left, Bella,"

"I don't want to," I replied with a scowl.

"I just want you to know that," and then he kissed me again.

"Oh no," I breathed against his skin, our foreheads pressed together. He hummed in reply. "I have to be on set tomorrow . . . early tomorrow,"

"No," He moaned, moving his lips to my throat. I didn't want to leave. I finally got to be in his arms again, after an entire year of feeling . . . almost numb, and I didn't want to let that go. I felt that if I left, he would slip away, and I'd never be able to find him again.

"I'll stay." I bargained, "But you have to get me to set. It's not that far,"

"Stay," he mumbled against my throat, and I nodded, because there was nothing else I could do or say. I kissed his temple, closing my eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** So I finally got the next chapter of this thing up. Aren't you happy? So am I, because I honestly couldn't think of anything else for these two. But they're . . . back together, in a way. Don't worry, I have a lot more planned for them.

Aren't they adorable together?

Please review!

-R.I.


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